


The Crown Jewel of the Golden Empire

by timkons



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alpha Otabek Altin, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Captive Prince Fusion, Alternate Universe - Harem, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Derogatory Language, Dildos, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Harems, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Omega Verse, Omega Yuri Plisetsky, Royalty, Slavery, Trust Issues, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 01:33:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11220474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timkons/pseuds/timkons
Summary: At least fifty -- no, more than that, far more -- blonde omegas peer up to their latest brethren, fear in their eyes. Yuri instantly recognizes in some of them the refinement of a raised slave, some of them with features like his own people and others with those of the Empire, while others are still crude, a pretty face enslaved for nothing more than appearances and biology. But Yuri knows exactly what all of them are: Prince Otabek’s Golden Harem.“This is wrong,” Yuri repeats again, weakly, to himself. And then, to only himself: ‘I am Yuri Plisetsky, prince of the Ice Tiger Kingdom.’





	The Crown Jewel of the Golden Empire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snkt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snkt/gifts).



“Why are you doing this?” Yuri can barely breathe, let alone speak, and his throat feels like fire forcing the few words out. He’s slapped across the cheek for his insolence, falling to his scraped and bruised knees. His arms are held down by thick chains, just like his ankles, but still, he attempts to resist. “I thought we were friends!”

“Silence, slave,” the prince says, turning his back on Yuri and stepping back into the shadows. His voice is unwavering and firm, just how Yuri remembers it, but there is no kindness in the voice of the prince before him, Imperial Highness Otabek Altin of the Golden Empire. “That’s what you are to me: a mere slave.”

-

Yuri’s ushered none too gently, suffering multiple kicks to his legs and another smack for speaking, into a long room smelling of perfume and sweetness. His stomach drops as the doors open and he realizes where he’s been taken. “No. This must be wrong. I don’t belong here!”

“Shut up, whore,” one of the guards says and snaps his sheathed blade across Yuri’s back, forcing him to the floor. “You’re an omega. You’re nothing but a whore anyway. Might as well put the legs you’d be spreading to good use.”

Yuri tries to resist, but he’s smacked with the sheath until his body goes limp, all the fight abused out of his body. The guard shoves him into the room with the sheath so as to avoid touching him and kicks Yuri inside when he refuses to budge.

Coughing spit and blood onto the floor only after the guards leave, Yuri uses the last of his energy to look up. At least fifty -- no, more than that, far more -- blonde omegas peer up to their latest brethren, fear in their eyes. Yuri instantly recognizes in some of them the refinement of a raised slave, some of them with features like his own people and others with those of the Empire, while others are still crude, a pretty face enslaved for nothing more than appearances and biology. But Yuri knows exactly what all of them are: Prince Otabek’s Golden Harem.

“This is wrong,” Yuri repeats again, weakly, to himself. And then, to only himself: ‘I am Yuri Plisetsky, prince of the Ice Tiger Kingdom.’

-

Yuri remembers the deceit of being attacked from behind, the lack of honor of his last remaining clansmen stripping his clothes and replacing them with chains, but nothing, _nothing_ compares to the betrayal Yuri feels when Otabek looks him in the eye and denies ever knowing him. Yuri vows to himself on the remains of his Kingdom: he will escape this place, and then he will kill Otabek Altin.

-

“Such fine features, finer than any in here,” one of the leading omegas coos, threading his fingers through Yuri’s hair. Yuri recognizes him as a Giacometti, one of the southern roaming tribes known for their fierceness and sexual prowess. Yuri tries to look anywhere but at the man; his looks are more rugged and raw than some of the trained slaves from the Empire, but he reeks of intoxication, adorned in golden cuffs on his wrists, ankles, and neck, and only a translucent robe immodestly covering his body. He’s a prized omega within the harem, though, no doubt, with the fruit of Altin’s seed rounding his stomach, and it’s a tactical decision to align himself with the slave on Yuri’s end. “What are you doing in here, I wonder?”

“I don’t belong here,” Yuri growls, turning wild eyes on the whipped slave, “and I intend to escape.”

“Hmm.” The slave lounges flirtatiously on one of the fine mattresses sitting on the golden frames assigned to the omegas; only the best for the crowned jewels of the Golden Empire. There are still plenty of unfilled beds, and it twists Yuri’s stomach to know that they’ll soon be filled. “Life in the harem isn’t so bad. Even if you can escape, there are reasons to stay put. And then there’s the prince himself…”

Yuri’s eyes flash hatred when the omega smugly cups the curve of his stomach, but he keeps his mouth shut.

-

Yuri knows very well why he’s been forced into this ridiculous harem, yet still he’s the only one with the chains still on. He can’t understand these fools who accept their fate, mildly talking and entertaining themselves with one another. They’re slaves chosen for no other reason than for their hair, closest to golden and also the rarest among omegas, the perfect prize for an Empire that prides itself on strictness, achievement, and, of course, riches. There’s a few betas and alphas mixed in the bunch, though he learns the alphas are sectioned off during ruts and serve a disciplinary role for keeping the omegas feeling safe and sated in the periods between their heats. 

But not Yuri, no. He trusts no one. As long as this harem exists, as long as he’s believed to be a part of it, each and every one of them are his enemies.

-

There are rules in the harem, rules that Yuri cares for less than the dirt beneath his fingernails. They bring him a vial to drink every morning, but he spits it out in the bathroom, whatever it is. These omegas might accept their fate or even enjoy it, mindlessly heeding every command given to them. Perhaps if Yuri’s head was empty except for thoughts of mating and idle pleasures, he too might follow them. But he’s not and he never will be, he promises himself. 

A guard fixes a golden muzzle over his mouth for talking back. They clamp golden cuffs on his arms for fighting and leash a golden chain between the cuffs and the wall. The golden punishments are only further mockery to remind Yuri where he is and who owns him now.

They think they’ve broken him. They haven’t.

-

Overall, the harem is rather boring. He quickly learns the guards’ shifts and patterns, and he’s come to find factions within the harem. The omegas are pampered physically and materially, and those that are green in the art of being a slave are taught. Though he’s not allowed to leave the harem’s wing, the harem is fully equipped with anything a person might want, and slaves serve them lavish meals, change their bedsheets, and prepare their bodies with sweet perfumes. One could live a happy life in this harem, but not Yuri. He looks out of the windows, craving freedom and revenge.

-

He’ll have to be smart if he wants to escape, and he certainly can’t escape when pinned to a wall or with the muzzle on his face. He stops fighting -- at least outwardly -- and he keeps his snide remarks to himself. The chains come off, the muzzle comes off, and eventually the cuffs come off too. 

“This tiger is becoming a little kitty,” one of the guards laughs. 

“Domestic cats still have claws,” Yuri snaps ominously, making his way to the baths.

-

“Drink,” a guard instructs. Yuri does so, and then spits the offered vial in his face.

-

“Heat” and “rut” are the most spoken words in the harem, no doubt because their lives revolve around them. The guards escort the omegas to the prince when their heat is due, while others are escorted in, fresh from their heat or giving birth. 

Yuri clenches his eyes shut and knows it’s not long before his time will come. 

-

“Must be nice to be one of these whores,” one of the guards says idly. Yuri only overhears because he’s inspecting the walls for any way of escape.

“Laze around and get fat all day. They spread them at the first scent of a knot anyway, not like it’s hard work for them,” the other guard agrees under his breath, and they share a laugh. “Which would you take, if his Royal Blandness let you?”

“The new one. Prettiest one yet. I hear he’s never been knotted before and the Prince is saving him for something special. The guards in the west wing won’t shut up about how he’s chosen a favorite for the first time, but can you blame him? Those lips. What they could do with a--”

Yuri feels his neck prickle in disgust, and a small part of him hates that it isn’t purely from the insult directed at himself. “Do you know who I am!? I’m Prince--”

“Prince Otabek’s choicest concubine,” the Giacometti finishes, suddenly at Yuri’s side and pulling him away. The guards look their way, surprised to see the concubine in question but remaining by their post. Their eyes are filled with suspicion as the Giacometti pulls Yuri away, and when he looks up, the man is ever-so-slightly shaking his head with a fearful look in his eye. It’s a close slip and it makes Yuri’s stomach knot. Never before has he felt so utterly _powerless_.

-

After a week in the harem, Yuri finally cries. They aren’t heavy tears, nor are they loud or ugly. His eyeballs hurt from how much he’s peeling them wide, trying to will himself not to cry, but at least the shadows of night protect him from being seen. 

Still, he’s crying. Not because he's angry or frustrated or even humiliated. He cries for his nation, for the loss of his people, for the years he would not let himself cry. There had always been a hope of returning home, but now locked in this harem, that hope fades like the futile flickering of a candle’s last wax. He wonders how his grandfather is doing, if his grandfather is even alive, and what became of his horse. He curses the name of his banished father, the one who invaded and took the throne by force. Breathing back his tears, Yuri vows to escape, he vows Otabek Altin’s death, and then he vows revenge on his father.

-

Yuri has an unpleasant realization in the morning as he’s taking a bath. Everything in this damn harem is so _pretty_ , just like the pretty little omegas kept within, and it’s annoying as Hell. His first realization is useless: that even the feet of the bathtubs are meticulously and elegantly sculpted from pure gold; his second realization could be useful: they are also bolted to the ground. 

He sighs, stowing away both bits of information and rolls over in the water to look up to the ceiling, which has a stunning chandelier to match the bathtub’s little details and a scene depicting the Empire’s first emperor standing victoriously among a battle’s fallen. It’s lavish and needless and reminds him how trapped he is by the Empire, but Yuri can’t help but appreciate riches that would rival his Kingdom’s. 

In another time, maybe Yuri would have had a harem too. He swallows thickly and pushes that thought aside; being in one now, he knows for certain that he never wants one.

-

In the afternoon, a slave drops a glass vase while switching flowers from one of the pickier omegas’ nightstands. It shatters into tiny pieces and Yuri restrains himself from rolling his eyes as the omegas scream and run away as if they too are as fragile as glass. 

Annoying? Yes. Significant? No. Not until the guards rush in on the slave, at least.

Immediately the slave lays down on the glass as if to willing accept the punishment, and then the guards begin to beat him with the blunt edges of their swords. Yuri holds in a breath and reminds himself not to scream as the slave’s face pushes into the fallen glass, making his face and the floor equally bloody, and soundlessly accepts the beatings. 

Yuri’s first thought is that he’s thankful to be one of the Imperial Highness’ revered sluts and not a slave. He then reminds himself that both of those positions are exactly the same.

-

Yuri holds his breath and seethes, lip fully curled, when the bastard himself walks through the doors. Without prompting, all the omegas line up along the hallway, their hands by their side and chins lifted up, perfectly obediently. He’s somewhere in the middle, but lets himself sneer as an act of resistance.

As Otabek begins down the row, Yuri gets a good look of the omegas around him. Some are pregnant and he notices the varying stages of their bellies for the first time. Anxiety knots his stomach, wondering, as Otabek approaches closer and closer, if he’ll have to bear his children too. He corrects himself: it’s not a matter of _if_ but rather _when_. 

There’s no children in the harem, he’s noticed, which is bizarre for a harem of so many pregnant omegas. That probably means that they don’t keep their children. It makes sense and Yuri doesn’t know why he’s thinking about this now of all times. There’s probably another wing where the children are kept, given to wet nurses. Yuri’s never thought much of children, but he always expected them in his life, mated to a loving alpha who would make him ripe with their legacy. It’s never mattered much before, but the lost possibility makes his chest squeeze tight with despair. 

Yuri’s glaring at his feet when he realizes himself, and Otabek’s adorned slippers are facing his own. There’s a gentle touch on his chin to lift his face, and Otabek’s staring at him. “Look up. You should be proud.”

Yuri’s swallows back a scream or a curse or anything else he wants to shout into Otabek’s face in this moment. He’s breathing audibly, chest heaving, and his face is heavy with lines of anger, but Otabek looks back at him with a hard, expressionless glare. 

Otabek lingers, letting his eyes roam up and down the latest addition to his harem, but Yuri doesn’t feel exposed or even objectified by the look. It’s impossible to describe, but it doesn’t make him fear, only makes his heart pound in his ears from anger. 

“You need to eat more,” Otabek finally says, and offers a baursak he happens to be holding. “May I?”

Taking it as a chance to respond, Yuri snaps, “do you need a whore’s permission?”

“That’s not an answer.”

They tensely glare at each other, and even a few of the nearby omegas gasp and start to murmur. Yuri knows he has no choice in this, and he accepts the dessert. In the end, Yuri doesn’t answer, and Otabek moves on, sparing few, if any words, on the rest of his harem. 

-

At the end of the day, Yuri carves another line into the wall his bed is pressed against. He counts up the days he’s trapped in here and counts down the days until his heat. He swallows thickly, realizing he doesn’t have much time.

-

“Your heat is soon, isn’t it?” one of the omegas says to the other. “Try to remember it as best you can. He only welcomes omegas into his chamber when they’re in heat. Nobody quite remembers it, but everybody knows he’s a good lay.”

“I’m so excited!” the omega giggles. Yuri finds it disgusting. “It’s my first heat that I’ll share with him. I hear he’s quite the bold lover. Did you know that lands have scrolls painted with positions named after him?”

“Well I heard he’s quite the strict lover. He uses his devices from the torture chamber, but the rumor is that the pleasures are sweeter than love-making.”

Yuri clucks his tongue beneath his breath. It’s a stupid conversation and nothing else, but it makes his blood boil. He’d seen the scrolls depicting the Golden Deadlock and knew they were nothing but lies. Both the scrolls and these omegas’ expectations were unlike the tender Otabek he’d known. The Otabek he knew would never use anything that could cause pain on one he loved. But perhaps it’s possible that the Imperial Prince had grown hard; Yuri would never expect him to be into such cruel acts, but he never expected for Otabek to knowingly banish him here either.

Yuri clenches his eyes shut and tries to shake the thoughts of what Otabek was like in bed out of his head. Yuri used to think about it. He imagined Otabek extending his hand with a bow and bringing Yuri’s knuckles to his lips. In that fantasy, Otabek would race against Yuri on his fastest steed or hook his elbow around Yuri’s as they strolled in Yuri’s gardens. That Otabek would place his hand on the back of Yuri’s neck and drag his touch to his jaw, just before closing his eyes and leaning in to kiss him. And at night, Otabek would kneel between Yuri’s legs, placing all of Yuri’s desires before his own. In his fantasy, Otabek’s mouth fit over Yuri’s bond mark perfectly.

It was the stuff of scandalous books with covers of a kind alpha embracing a pliant omega, and it was exactly that: fantasy. Just like Yuri’s royal gardens, that Otabek was no more.

-

They’re lined up again, and this time Yuri looks Otabek defiantly in the eye. He’s noticed how everybody else looks up but with a vacant expression, like they’re trying to see beyond the furthest wall in the hallway, but not Yuri, who glares at Otabek and forces the prince to acknowledge his presence. 

If it bothers Otabek, he doesn’t show it. Just like last time, Otabek merely looks up and down his body. This time, he frowns, but it’s not a disapproving frown; it’s more like he’s confused by something. “You’re still so thin.”

Yuri wants to point out that Otabek visited only days ago and can’t possibly expect Yuri to get any thicker in such a short time, but snapping back about how small he is would just remind him of how much muscle he’s lost since coming to the harem, no longer allowed to train or fight.

Otabek offers another baursak. “Eat that. You can’t beget strong heirs if you’re so thin.”

Yuri takes it without complaint this time, just so he can angrily bite into it in front of Otabek. Otabek’s eyes widen; it seems like he’s understood the metaphor.

-

“It was like a bonded alpha trying to take care of a reluctant mate,” the Giacometti teases. 

Yuri pushes him aside with a growl. “That man means _nothing_ to me.”

-

“I wish he would marry me,” one omega sighs. “I would love to be his princess.”

“I’d love the power.”

“The money.”

“The sex.”

Yuri scoffs loud enough for them to overhear. No omega in the harem has a bond mark on their neck, yet these two arrogantly think Otabek would think of them as anything more than what’s between their legs. Marriage meant little to him as a prince; mostly marriages were political strategies to ensure alliances, and it was no secret that many kings or queens had bond marks on their necks that didn’t match their spouse. It was a bond Yuri wanted, not something so superficial as marriage, power, money, or sex. Yuri clasps his bare neck and yearns for comfort and understanding.

-

Every now and then, an omega is called out from the harem for awhile. Without fail, the lucky omega gushes upon their return of how handsome or terrifying or dominant the Imperial Highness was. They call him cold and distant, and the more daring omegas, usually within earshot of a guard, will use the nickname Yuri heard earlier: His Imperial Blandness. 

“He doesn’t let anybody in emotionally. It’s uncomfortable to be alone with him.”

“He’s actually rather boring. He doesn’t have me do anything.”

“He didn’t even touch me. I tried to kiss him and please him in the ways only we can, but he pulled away.”

They’re all idiots, Yuri thinks to himself. Otabek was many things -- among them, a traitor -- but emotionless and boring he was not. They’d change their minds if they knew how beautifully he could play the violin and piano, and they’d know that Otabek doesn’t like being touched if they bothered to observe him at all. He takes some comfort in learning that Otabek doesn’t share much intimacy with anybody in his harem, but mostly Yuri feels pity because it sounds like Otabek is as alone as he is.

-

Yuri hates Otabek, but he is also finding it harder and harder to actively hate Otabek; despite being sequestered away from the rest of the world, Otabek lavishes his harem with their every need and want, everything from delicious food to beautiful clothes. Despite all the rumors, Yuri had yet to see one omega treated unjustly. It threatens to make his heart soften, but Yuri hardens it again, reminding himself that this isn’t the Otabek who was his friend and, in another life, would have been much more.

-

The third time Yuri lines up, he overhears Otabek ask each omega if they are in want of anything. One asks for a pet, another wants a pretty bracelet. The scribe beside Otabek marks down each desire.

Finally face-to-face, Yuri rolls his eyes when Otabek pushes the baursak onto him without explanation. “And you?”

“I’m bored,” Yuri says bluntly. No sooner than said, a sea of gasps spreads through the line.

Otabek’s mouth twitches. There’s a faint smile before his face is trained into a stoic expression once again. “I understand. What do you want?”

“I want to _go out_.” 

“There’s a private courtyard and garden.”

“I want to be released,” Yuri answers in a mocking tone that implies the answer was obvious. Even the scribe beside him is now looking at Yuri with shock and disgust, eyeing the guards as if Yuri will have to be subdued for his words alone.

Otabek holds Yuri’s piercing glare and breathes out evenly. He turns on his heel and asks the next omega what she would like. He asks for the chef’s finest chocolates.

-

Yuri hates that he’s excited, but he’s been selected by special request to accompany Otabek today. He complained the four entire hours it took for the slaves to wash him, sculpt his hair, rub oils all over his body, and paint his nails, but Yuri stops protesting once they show him what he is to wear: a cloak made entirely out of a white tiger’s fur. After his time in the harem, Yuri hates Otabek for a lot of reasons, but his number one reason now is that Otabek had such a fine garment and never gave it to Yuri.

Yuri admires himself at every angle in the mirrors provided, so entranced with himself that he doesn’t realize when Otabek enters. He catches Otabek’s eye in the mirror and watches the alpha’s eyes widen as his lips part ever-so-slightly, eyes roaming every inch of Yuri’s body in the mirror.

“Is it to your liking, your Highness?” one of the slaves asks, kneeling beside him so deeply that her forehead touches the ground. 

In the mirror, Yuri catches Otabek swallowing, eyes still roaming over his form. It’s intense and makes Yuri feel self-conscious for the first time since entering the harem. When he turns around to face Otabek, he tries to train the smile off his face, refusing to show taking pleasure in being Otabek’s pretty little thing. He takes a few defiant steps toward Otabek without prompting, moving to make the cape flutter confidently and powerfully behind him. 

Otabek touches the back of Yuri's neck and lets his touch slide down to Yuri's chin. He lingers just a moment too long for Yuri not to shiver, but then he's stony faced again. 

“It’s sufficient,” he says, but Yuri is close enough to see him blushing.

-

“We used to sneak out when our parents were negotiating treaties and play in the garden,” Yuri spits as they walk toward the grand banquet hall. The allure of the coat has worn off, and all Yuri can feel is spite from being robed in Otabek’s finest. Otabek doesn't say anything, so Yuri continues, “we played hide-and-seek one time and I found you beneath the root of a tree. You had been crying for hours because I couldn’t find you and you were stuck.”

“You shouldn’t say such things where anybody can hear,” Otabek says, but he doesn’t deny it.

-

Yuri is paraded around for what seems like an eternity, but any hope of the visiting king recognizing him is lost by the thick paint on his face. Even Yuri wouldn’t recognize himself. Otabek doesn’t let the king touch him or make requests that prove him to be an obedient omega, for which Yuri is grateful for, but he hardly forgives Otabek.

Finally they take their seats at the long table prepared with sweetmeats and lavish sides. Yuri’s place is directly next to Otabek’s, and he wonders if any other omegas have been in such a public position. 

Otabek gestures to the steaming dishes and says, “a feast fit for a king. Take your fill.”

-

“Our feasts were grander,” Yuri says quietly, shoveling some food onto his plate. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Otabek smirk.

-

Some time during the visiting king’s long monologue of wildfowling, Otabek places down his fork, and his little finger ends up resting on Yuri’s. Yuri takes a deep breath and tries to relax. It’s possible it’s completely unintentional, given that Otabek shows no indication he’s aware or self-conscious about the touch. For such a light touch, it weighs down heavily on Yuri.

-

The king, filled to the brim with wine, begins talking to a serving girl and making advances at her, and the rest of the company is taken with the ridiculous display as dessert is laid out. Directly in front of Yuri and Otabek, a serving boy places a plate filled with baursaks. Yuri looks at them and blinks, wondering why he didn’t think of it before.

“I just remembered,” Yuri says out loud. Otabek doesn’t move his head, but his eyes dart to Yuri’s direction. “You used to bring me a plate of baursaks just like that every time you visited. And a teddy bear.”

The serving boy, hearing the name of the food, cordially places a few of the dessert on Yuri’s plate. With the serving boy in earshot, Otabek asks, “do you want a teddy bear?”

“No,” Yuri growls, waiting for the boy to serve other company. “I want you to remember how we would go hunting together.”

“We can't always get what we want,” Otabek says, a bit sadly, looking down at Yuri's untouched baursak.

-

“Well, let’s see what your omega can do!” the king demands, and Yuri bristles at the way, _‘your omega,’_ repeats in his brain. He notices how Otabek stiffens, sitting up a bit more straightly and his jaw clenched, and Yuri knows he’s nervous. It finally clicks that Otabek is unprepared for this, had probably assumed that he’d go unchallenged the entire night. The vindictive part of Yuri says, _‘good,’_ because it’s nice to see Otabek squirm for once. 

“What he can do,” Otabek repeats softly. He turns to Yuri while his fists begin to clench. Yuri wants to smirk back at him smugly, but even he’s starting to become nervous by Otabek’s reaction.

“You wouldn’t have brought a talentless omega to hear about our plans to expand to the north and recapture the Ice Tiger Kingdom now, would you? We Partizans expect some kind of show of good faith. After all, if you’re going to give me half your harem, I want to know what they can do.”

Yuri’s heart flutters. _‘Stupid, stupid, stupid,’_ he internally berates himself, wishing how he’d been paying attention to the conversation and not to Otabek’s pinky finger.

Yuri opens his mouth and before he can ask about his kingdom, Otabek says, “he can dance.”

“Oh, this should be a treat,” the king says, sitting back in his seat with a leer. 

“Not like that,” Otabek uncharacteristically snaps. He lets out an annoyed breath of air and snaps his fingers for a service. Yuri hears the whisper to round up the musicians and bring more of the harem out, the most appealing and wanton ones. Returning his attention to the king, he gestures to Yuri. “You won’t want this one. He knows none of the erotic arts, only those fitting of a king. I’ll have my finest trained in the erotic arts brought out to you at once. When we succeed, you will have your pick of them, as well as my finest concubine.”

“So why bring this kitten out at all?” the king asks skeptically, and Yuri resists the urge to squirm. He’s insulted that they’re having this conversation about him while he can only passively watch, but more than that, he’s caught between the dizziness of trying to connect the implications and the increasingly sickening feeling telling him his honor is about to be put on the line.

“Do you not have eyes?” At that, Yuri blushes hotly. So many eyes are upon him now, inspecting his beauty as though that’s all there is to him. He’s humiliated, but years of knowing Otabek makes it hard to deny when his heart flutters at Otabek thinking him beautiful and shamelessly announcing it. “The Golden Empire has the most revered concubines in all of the world. Why would I not show you my finest one?”

“If that one is your finest, then I want to see what he can do,” the king insists, tone now more annoyed. “He’ll be mine soon enough anyway.”

Yuri’s eyes peel open and he glares at Otabek immediately. His lips curl and he’s about to ask Otabek what the meaning of all is when Otabek calmly says, “No.”

_“‘No’?”_

“No.” Otabek swallows and breathes in. “You misunderstand. By the time we take the Ice Tiger Kingdom, this will no longer be my finest concubine. We are preparing other concubines that will meet your satisfaction and any desire, training them especially for you. It is pointless to show you his talents when I could show you so many others.”

As if on cue, the door opens with some servants leading in a sizeable section from the harem and musicians with instruments. The music cues up nearly immediately, and all attention on Yuri is lost. 

While their attentions are diverted, Otabek stands up, holding his hand out for Yuri to take. Yuri looks up, and Otabek’s eyes are wide with urgency. Yuri accepts his hand. 

-

They walk back to the harem hand-in-hand, neither one saying anything. While that isn’t unusual for Otabek, Yuri is too overwhelmed with this new information. Otabek was planning on taking his kingdom even though it had been lost for years, and he was willing to put his harem on the line for it. Otabek wanted Yuri’s kingdom for himself.

Yuri can’t even begin to make sense of what Otabek meant by Yuri being his finest concubine or that he would no longer be the finest one in the harem once the coup was complete. Otabek objected to the possibility of the king -- _King_ Leroy, though Yuri remembered him as _Prince_ Leroy long ago -- claiming Yuri, but Yuri can’t shake the feeling like he’s merely a thing to be traded in this grand scheme. 

Between himself or his kingdom, he’d choose his kingdom within a second, but to know that Otabek would give him up so easily was harder to accept than becoming a part of his harem. The lingering feelings of betrayal thicken, and Yuri realizes that his presence in the harem must be to remind Otabek of the complete enslavement of everything Yuri represents. The conclusion is obvious: Otabek will not help him.

They come to a stop in front of the golden gate that leads to the harem’s wing. 

Eventually Yuri says, “the third time you visited my kingdom, you said I would always have a friend in the Golden Empire. You pledged your life to me, as I did to you. We swore we would be better than our fathers.”

“The Golden Empire honors its allies,” Otabek says as he opens the gate and Yuri steps into it. Now on opposite sides of a locked gate, Otabek looks at Yuri and his eyes look aflame. “But as for you, within these walls, you are nothing but part of my harem.”

-

For the first time in weeks, Yuri cries that night. He curls into a ball and lets himself cry fat tears that stain his cheeks with stuttered weeping. 

Otabek has only seen him dance once. As a child Yuri thought dancing silly and embarrassing and refused to do it, especially in public. His kingdom threw a ball to celebrate the presentation of the Golden Empire’s heir, a gesture of goodwill to their then weak but trusted ally. Yuri had never felt unloved by his grandfather or his people for his presentation as an omega, but an heir presenting as an alpha was cause to celebrate, especially when one presented so late in life, like Otabek had.

At the time, Yuri had thought it nothing more than bravado of presenting as an alpha, but Otabek would not stop asking for his hand in a single dance. He blamed Otabek for thinking that being an alpha meant he could not be denied and the tingly feeling in his chest when he relented and agreed to only a single waltz. He blamed Otabek for presenting as an alpha and every single stereotype about alphas when the music stopped, and Otabek leaned in to kiss him and whispered a vow to begin courting him next time he visited. It was the last ball the Ice Tiger Kingdom hosted before it fell. 

He cries for what could have been.

-

When Yuri wakes up, his eyes are sharp, and he knows he must escape.

-

Yuri spends the next two days plotting and preparing his escape. Anybody in the harem is given everything they ask for, but it would be too obvious if Yuri asked for the very tools that will facilitate his escape. He steals hair pins from one omega’s bed, and he collects leftovers as rations after meals. He’ll need discrete clothes and a weapon of some kind to protect himself with once he’s out of the castle, which he also stows away secretly.

In the dead of the night, he grabs his pack and drags the sheets of his bed to the bathroom window. There, he attaches one end of the bedsheet to a foot of the tub before smashing the window. He’s careful and silent, but he knows that a guard will be upon him soon. Dropping the other end of his sheet out of the window, and the pieces of clothing and other blankets knotted to it for extra length, Yuri crawls through the window and begins his descent. 

-

It’s a long way down, he knows, but still, he takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe the fresh air. Freedom courses through his veins, and he feels more relaxed than he has in weeks.

-

He can already hear the guard hounds barking and omegas screaming as several guards stampede toward the baths, but Yuri is prepared. He risks letting go of the fabric and grabbing on a few seconds later to descend more quickly, but he only scales halfway down the wall before a guard angrily yells at him from the window. The yelling might as well be music to his ears, already planning the first thing he’ll do when he lands. He wants to go to the market and buy a trinket. Anything will do, as long as it’s _his_. 

“Stop climbing, breeder!” the guard shouts again, but Yuri ignores it. The threats to cut Yuri into tiny pieces are equally ignored; Yuri knows the guard wouldn’t dare harm one of the Imperial Prince’s beloved omegas, and Yuri is close to the bottom.

Or so he thought. At the end of the last bedsheet, Yuri looks down and it’s still quite a long fall. The excitement bubbling in his chest from his impending freedom comes to a bitter halt, replaced by a loud thump of blood ringing in his ears. Looking down to the remaining length, he considers the risk, and then he looks looks up to the guard. His body will shatter if he doesn’t crawl back up, but his self-respect will shatter if he does. 

“Get back up here, you insolent whore!” the guard screeches, now tugging on the blanket to hoist the runaway omega back into the palace.

“That is the last time you call me that,” Yuri whispers into the night sky and lets go. Death is a better option.

-

Yuri groans and rolls to his side. His hip is sore, but altogether he feels better than he expected for the drop he sustained. It’s only when he tries to sit up that he realizes his wrists and ankles are chained more tightly than they ever were when he arrived, and he lays back down with an angry huff.

His head rolls to the side and he hears beyond the heavy wooden door the sound of whispers. He makes out the voice of the guard who yelled at him -- complete with another insult to Yuri’s status as an omega -- and the loud crack of a whip. Yuri clenches his fists, anticipating that whip to be used on himself soon enough.

The door’s rusty hinges cry as the door is heaved open, and Otabek is there, waiting for the guards to fill into the room before he steps inside. Yuri curses, now realizing that he’s in the gallows.

“You tried to escape using a makeshift rope and scaling down the tower, and then when faced with death or capture, you chose death,” Otabek says evenly. Yuri must be imagining it, but it look like his dear friend-turned-enemy is smirking a little bit. “Do you deny any of this?”

“No. And I’d do it again!” Yuri barks out, writhing on the torture board to make the chains rattle threateningly. 

“I see.”

“Your verdict, my lord?” one of the guards asks. Yuri notices this guard has a whip and his eye skips to Guard Asshole, who is now sporting a bright red mark on his cheek.

Otabek hums and takes two steps forward so that he’s looming over Yuri. It makes Yuri shiver and his stomach twist. Yuri’s heart beats wildly at the closeness, but he’s discarded any affection he might have held for Otabek before. Otabek’s looking at Yuri, not the guard, when he says, “this one is honest. I won’t see him come to harm. It should be expected that one unused to our ways would try to escape.”

Yuri’s fists unclench and he hears some surprised murmurs from the guards, but none speak against their prince’s decision. 

Otabek backs away and turns on his heel. “Return him to the harem and replace the window. Treat him kindly. Perhaps he tried escaping your abuses. You only have your lack of empathy to blame for this transgression. You are fortunate he fell into the laundry or his blood would be on your hands. That will be all.”

Yuri watches him walk away, breathing heavily and wondering if Otabek truly just walked away without sentencing him to death. He grits his teeth; Otabek perhaps thought death too easy an escape and knew how Yuri would be more insulted by the merciful ruling. If it were any other alpha, they would have used their alpha voice to make Yuri submit, but Otabek’s kindness only makes him want to scream. 

-

Yuri’s next escape attempt is instantaneous. He’s insulted that after his grand escape, Otabek assigned only one guard to uncuff him and escort him to the harem. Otabek must think him a fool or nothing more than a submissive omega to think he’d go obediently, and his blood boils, remembering that Otabek thinks of him as nothing more than a bargaining chip.

Once the guard turns into an unpatrolled corner, Yuri grabs the guard’s sword and uses the blunt edge to knock into the guard’s head and knock him out. Yuri immediately sets to pulling off the guard’s helmet and clothes, and once he’s put them on himself, he leaves the guard naked and chained to a torch holder. 

He doesn’t have his pack and he has no idea what he’ll wear once he’s out of the castle or how he’ll manage his impending heat, but he only has escape on his mind.

-

Yuri’s heart is racing as he approaches the gate, but that gate is all that stands between him and his freedom. He walks up to a guard and calmly demands the drawbridge be pulled down. 

“Why should I lower the bridge?”

“Do you question the Imperial Highness’ mandate?” Yuri questions, gritting his teeth the entire time. He _hates_ Otabek. How could he not, after being captured and bought as one of his harem’s omegas? But Otabek’s kindness is something Yuri can’t just forget and wrap in the assurance of hate. Otabek saved him from torture, in a way, and it only confuses Yuri, leaving a sour taste in his mouth when he speaks his old friend’s name.

“I-I-- No, of course not,” the guard stutters and immediately begins to draw the bridge. 

Yuri can’t believe it’s so simple. He exhales relief and waits impatiently for the bridge to be lowered. Soon, soon he’ll be free, and the thought makes him smile again. He only needs to wait moments. 

A sudden gust blows through the courtyard and just as the bridge pounds with its weight against the ground, the guard helmet Yuri is wearing twists to the side. Yuri catches it in time to right it, but the guard calls out the same chant he heard last night, and immediately he’s surrounded.

Yuri has always taken pride in being a rare omega, his golden locks proof of his high and noble birth, but now, he curses it, for it is his damn hair that gave him away.

-

This time Yuri isn’t taken to the gallows. He stands in the middle of a circle of guards, all pointing spears to his throat. He stands there for what seems like an eternity under the blazing sun, now sweating from his forehead down to his toes. He’s been stripped of the uniform he stole, and now he’s confronted with the extra humiliation of being presented naked.

Otabek appears with some servants shielding his face from the light with long fans, but he waves them off and steps forward. The guards also heed the command, pulling away from Yuri to surround him in a semi circle.

The air is tense and the few guards that Yuri can see have expectant expressions. One steps forward and says, “this one was caught trying to escape. My commander says he was caught only hours before. This is his second offense and needs to be--”

“You will speak when spoken to,” Otabek snaps in his alpha voice, glaring as the guard whines and submits to his will, “and the verdict is mine to make.”

Otabek looks at all except Yuri. The next move he makes makes a guard gasp, for he pulls off his vest and tosses it at Yuri’s feet. “Put that on. I will not have you bare for all to see.”

Yuri grabs at the royal garment and reminds himself that he hates Otabek. A small show of kindness is not enough to warrant forgiveness, though he will not look a gift horse in the face. He slips it on, and when Otabek realizes that the vest is still too short, Otabek takes off his shirt and instructs Yuri to wrap it around his waist. It’s still humiliating, but Yuri feels more comfortable now that he’s covered.

“I’ve been brought to you, all because you’ve escaped. Again.” Yuri shifts his weight from side to side, a bit uncomfortable when Otabek has that face like he’s amused. None of the guards see it, but they don’t know Otabek like Yuri knows -- _knew_ \-- him. “This is a record for most escape attempts.”

Yuri keeps his mouth shut but not because he wants to. The prickle of a spearhead against his neck makes him hold his breath. Ever observant, Otabek’s eyes zoom into the spot where it threatens to pierce his skin, and he glares at the guard, who releases the pressure in silent obedience. 

His eyes return to Yuri’s. “I can’t keep protecting you if you keep escaping. I’ll be moved to action.”

“Your Highness! Does that mean you intend to let him go?”

“What will the others think if they see him returned twice unharmed?”

“Why won’t you punish this insolence?”

Otabek holds his palm up to silence the rest of the questions barrelling out, and his frown deepens. He inhales while looking at his guards and exhales while looking at Yuri. Something in his eyes beg Yuri for something, but Yuri isn’t sure what that something is.

“Your heat is soon. You should pay greater care to your circumstances,” Otabek says to Yuri. His eyes are hard and the lines around his mouth are firm. He almost looks annoyed, like Yuri’s let him down, or like he can’t understand why Yuri would do this, or like his plans keep falling apart. Before Yuri can dwell on that expression, Otabek turns away again and begins walking back to the castle. “Fifty lashes. To the back, not his face. His beauty must not be tarnished. And chains upon his return.” 

-

“You don’t have to be here for this,” a guard insists. 

Otabek holds a hand up, again in silence, and continues to watch. “I must witness this.”

“He’s just one of your--”

“He is a part of my harem and therefore an extension of myself,” Otabek says, and this time his tone is silencing. 

Yuri curses and spits at the guards, at Otabek, at his life, but the muzzle on his face makes it futile. His words are deformed into animalistic noises, if they can even be called that. He growls and struggles against the binds that press him down, back bared for the lashes. A piece of leather was shoved between his teeth before the muzzle was fixed, and he’s already bitten it raw. What despair he had for his situation, for Otabek, has turned into nothing but pure rage.

Otabek places a hand on Yuri’s head, as though his guards weren’t there and watching his every move with suspicion. Yuri hates it because Otabek looks like he’s truly pained, and he hates it more because he _knows_ Otabek is truly pained. Otabek’s only looked like this once in his life, when Yuri’s mouser had to be put down and Yuri cried that the cat deserved a better death than to become feed for the slaves. Otabek volunteered to be the one to do it, and then he dug a grave in Yuri’s garden. “It pains me to see you like this. Were it up to me, this would not be the result.”

“His Imperial Highness is awfully sentimental about a single whore,” one of the guards scoffs. “He’s just a lousy omega.”

“Tie him up and give him the same punishment,” Otabek commands, this time as an alpha command. His hand remains on Yuri, and he doesn’t look away.

-

It doesn’t help Yuri’s position any, but he feels slightly vindictive about the man’s screams as the guards hold him down and yank his armor off. He’s given no leather for his mouth and pushed onto a similar board as Yuri, now pleading for mercy and spewing hatred at his prince. Eventually a guard shoves his dirty sock into his mouth to shut him up, and Yuri casts a smug glare when the ex-guard looks his way. Yuri only spares a single moment before Otabek gently pets the top of Yuri’s head, and dread sets in when he sees Otabek’s stony expression.

“Do your best to receive it,” Otabek says, still looking only at Yuri. Yuri wants to hate, to not take comfort in the alpha’s words and his soothing voice. He says, “as you sow, so shall you reap,” but Yuri doesn’t feel like Otabek is chastising him.

-

Yuri screams at the first lash and Otabek winces. There’s not a moment for reprieve before the second lash, this time clapping against his flesh and audibly slicing it open. The next lash sticks to his skin and peels it away when it whips back. Otabek’s hand remains on Yuri’s palm, and his gaze never leaves Yuri’s eyes. Yuri feels hot tears slip down his cheeks into the muzzle, and he thinks Otabek’s eyes look glassy in the moment between whips.

-

Yuri lays on his stomach for three days while his back heals. He stopped crying from pain after the first night, but his eyes are still hot with tears, overwhelmed by the dedication and softness of the harem, who treat his back with oils, bring water to his lips, and stay by his side to keep the guards away from further harassment or the vials they keep trying to make him swallow. They’re useless and he hates them, Yuri reminds himself, or at least that’s how he’s supposed to feel. Yuri hates the Giacometti the most, who remains by his side at all times, petting Yuri’s hair, and whispering a mantra of, “it’s only a matter of time.”

-

On the fourth day, one of the omegas declares him to have a fever, and his stomach twists with a curl of heat. He clenches his eyes shut but refuses to despair. The Giacometti leans down to his neck and takes one sniff, and then he cupping Yuri’s chin and tilts it to face him, eyes hard. “Tomorrow you will be given to him, and he will take care of you.”

Yuri whines in protest, too weak to shake his head, and his tears start to flow again.

-

With his growing heat beginning to break and his instincts on edge, Yuri finds the strength to push himself off his bed and slump to the door. The guard on duty -- possibly taking pity in the futility of his situation, respecting him for his insistence despite the wound he’s suffered, anticipating failure and future lashes, or all three -- steps aside and allows Yuri to pass. Yuri limps his way into the hallway, but it doesn’t take long for the urgency to set in. Rounding a corner, he can already feel his thighs quiver and the slick slip down his leg. 

Yuri doesn’t make it out of that hallway before he experiences the telltale clench of his heat seize his body. He falls to the ground when a painful cramp overwhelms him, and lets out an agonized cry. He’s not going to make it and he knows. It’s his last and only attempt to keep himself from being defiled, and his body betrays him, making it impossible to do anything other than squeeze his thighs together in want. 

What began as a light fragrance now fills the air thickly with his smell, and he can hear the guards reacting to it. He can hear them shouting and shoving at each other, herding the alphas away and trying to figure out the best course of action.

Yuri loses consciousness around then, but he remembers a firm voice telling the guards to move aside and strong arms lifting him up. “Yurochka.”

-

Yuri only remembers flashes. A blur of marble here, a flash of light there. He swallows thickly, trying to deny the way his body presses against the warmth of the one carrying him wantonly. His body wants -- _needs_ \-- this, but his mind wants to resist his instincts. 

Letting out a growl that is both desire and frustration against his body, Yuri finds his mouth trying to latch onto the man’s neck. The man strategically places his palm over Yuri’s mouth to keep the omega from kissing, licking, or biting at his neck or fingers. Yuri’s tongue glides against the hand pressed against his mouth but only tastes fabric, a glove, which riles his senses further. 

Yuri’s eyes focus only on the robes of his handler and the smell of him. His head feels light and dizzy, filled with only the want of a strong alpha to help him through his heat. Against the glove, Yuri breathes, _“Alpha.”_

“Your heat is making you say things,” Otabek’s voice says, but Yuri can tell he’s holding his breath.

-

Yuri remembers Otabek’s chambers. He remembers the soft glide of the silk against his skin and the twilight breeze filtering through the open windows, rustling the leaves of the plants kept inside. He remembers how Otabek’s dark eyes looked with the pale candlelight reflected in them.

-

“Listen to me,” he says, but all Yuri can do is cry out. It’s excruciatingly agonizing to smell Otabek, to feel his body’s warmth, to hear his voice, and not have his hands on him. He needs the comfort of an alpha to help him through this, to make the pain go away and his head stop spinning. Otabek places a hand on Yuri’s cheek and Yuri moans from the simple contact. “I need to leave.”

“No,” Yuri whines. He struggles to move against the bed, to grab Otabek and hold him close, to make it impossible to leave Yuri alone like this, but he finds his arms tied to either bedpost, making it impossible to move. It’s only then he realizes he’s on his stomach again, and he wouldn’t have felt Otabek’s firm hands glide over his bare back, rubbing soothing gels over his wounds, without Otabek’s voice to guide him. _“Stay.”_

Yuri hates how weak he sounds begging, but he hates how much his body is betraying him more. He can’t make it through a heat like this. It’s unfair. On suppressants to completely hold the heat away or make it bearable without a mate, he never had this problem. He didn’t want it now, to be claimed by a man he didn’t love, who had defiled so many before him. 

Otabek frowns as his hands continue to move over Yuri’s back, and Yuri feels the scrape of his nails lighting Yuri’s body on fire. It’s too much, too much, too much. 

“If I stay, I will not be able to resist you,” Otabek says through a labored breath. He looks to be in pain, though nowhere near what Yuri’s experiencing. “This is not how I want to take you.”

“My heat,” Yuri manages to choke out. He clenches his eyes shut, body refusing to listen to his wishes not to push against Otabek’s touch. He arches as smoothly as water into the alpha’s warmth, and Otabek snaps his hand back immediately.

“I know. It’s making you desire,” Otabek begins, and somewhat bitterly ends, “something you don’t want.”

“I want it!” Yuri roars, hissing. His hips are rutting into Otabek’s mattress, and he can’t think of how he must be staining Otabek’s sheets with his slick without feeling guilty. He feels disgusting; the proof of his release thrice over making his thighs and the bedding wet. “I need it!”

When his eyes open, Otabek’s watching him and takes a deep swallow. Yuri’s eyes drop to his crotch, where the alpha is erect, and restrains a low moan at the thought of his knot. He writhes against the sheets, unable to stop himself. If he can’t have an alpha, he needs _something_ , as humiliating as it is to rut into Otabek’s mattress. 

“I will help you,” Otabek vows carefully, obviously training his eyes away from where Yuri’s pushing himself against the mattress for friction. He stumbles to a nightstand by the bed and shakily pulls out a small vial. He shakes it a little, and when it passes his inspection, he offers it to Yuri, still looking away. “Drink this.”

“Wh-What is--” Yuri begins to speak but the words die in his throat with a painful contraction and a small gasp as his heat pulls an orgasm out of him. Yuri’s body tightens and releases, and he gasp as his body shudders from the relief from heat, if only for a moment. He can think straight through the orgasmic haze, at least more than he could moments before. “You tied my arms up, brilliant.”

“Ah.” Otabek’s entire face flushes red, and it isn’t from reacting to Yuri’s heat. He remembers himself after a moment, kneeling to Yuri with either hesitation or restraint, and risks only a moment’s glance to offer the vial to Yuri’s lips. “It will help with your heat. But it needs time.”

Yuri whines but swallows it down. He has half a mind to spit it back into Otabek’s face, but his heat is painful and if it will make it bearable, then Yuri must accept it for himself. He still glares at Otabek, baring his teeth, to show that he is not idly accepting the goodwill. “Why are you helping me?”

“Despite what you may think, it is not my intention to hurt you,” Otabek responds evenly, too evenly. He still won’t look at Yuri, and it’s beginning to piss him off. 

“Look at me, damn it!” Yuri shouts before he can control himself. His heat is beginning to trickle down his spine again, and it’s making him impulsive. “Look at what you’ve done to me!”

Otabek does this time, and his face is pained. He watches Yuri struggle with a difficult-to-place expression, and Yuri hates it.

With the last bit of his sanity before his heat begins to take over, Yuri hisses, “you’ve done this to me. It’s all because of you!”

“I tried to protect you from this. Why didn’t you drink the suppressants?” Otabek asks in a small voice. “If you would have just stayed put for a little bit longer… We’re so close, Yuri, you don’t even know.”

The heat’s too much for Yuri to connect the pieces, and he abruptly jerks against the mattress when it proves too much to bear. Yuri wants to yell and cry and tell Otabek to stop looking so sorry, but all he can think of is how empty and hot he feels, how he wants it to stop. 

_“Touch me,”_ Yuri begs. Otabek inhales sharply. 

“No.” But this time Otabek isn’t looking away. Yuri sees his hands curl into fists, the way he’s physically holding himself away.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Yuri goes on, a bit brokenly. “I need-- something. Anything. _Please._ ”

Otabek shoulders shake and Yuri can see him waging an internal battle. It’s a moment of Yuri sighing into the pillow and clenches his arms to his side. “Okay.”

Yuri gasps, hips pushing against the mattress despite of Yuri’s personal disgust at his body, and carefully watches Otabek return to the nightstand. He pulls on a different drawer this time and rummages through it, pulling out a golden rod of considerable girth and with a slight curve to it. “We’ll use this.”

“No, I need,” Yuri begins, but his voice dies out on the pillow, muffled when Yuri presses his face into it to restrain a long moan. He’s too sensitive during his heat and all the rutting has him coming a second time. 

“We’ll do it like this or not at all,” Otabek says, touching the tip of the device along Yuri’s side. Fresh with his orgasm and prompted by the heat, even the small point of contact is enough to send shivers up his spine and make his toes curl. Otabek halts the device at Yuri’s hip, observing him to see the bit of rationality peek through his heat from his release. “Are you sure about this?”

 _“Yes,”_ Yuri hisses, frustrated that it sounds more pleased than he’d like it to, while his body thrashes in frustration. “Just put it _in_ already.”

Otabek hums as Yuri presses his face into the pillow to keep himself from saying anything to further embarrass him. This is is strongest heat he’s ever experienced, strong enough to make him want _Otabek_. In his youth he may have entertained several a fantasy, but all that changed when Otabek stashed him away for his keeping, stashed him away for _this_. It’s a wonder Otabek can restrain himself from taking what he’s claimed, but Otabek had always been restrained with his desires. 

Obeying Yuri’s command, Otabek presses the rod into Yuri’s ass, already wet from leaking out his slick for what seems like eternity now. Otabek’s grip is firm and his handling of the device is calculated yet careful. It’s not enough to sate Yuri and he bites the pillow while shoving his hips up to take more of the length. After being empty for so long, the smooth length of the rod is _divine_ , and Yuri starts panting in quick, soft breaths as he fucks himself on the golden stick.

“Be careful. You’ll hurt yourself,” Otabek warns, removing the rod completely despite Yuri’s screeching protests. Yuri’s heat seems to take control of him with the insertion of the rod, and he can’t even tell what disgusting things he shouts with its removal. Otabek places a hand on Yuri’s hip and shoves it down to the bed, which only makes the heat in Yuri’s blood boil further. “I’ll give you what you need. Trust me.”

“H-How…could I?” Yuri asks, but his desire for an answer dies when the rod slides in, and deeper this time. With Otabek guiding it with more force than before, Yuri feels a substantial stretch within him, one that he clamps around and eagerly pulls inside of him. Otabek pats his hip and whispers to relax, but Yuri can’t, driven to feel the rod deeper inside of him. “More.”

“I want to keep you safe,” Otabek says reverently, and if Yuri wasn’t so caught up in his heat, he might have caught the second meaning. Yuri’s body quakes with the feeling of soft lips along his shoulder. Otabek pulls away just enough to lean his forehead against Yuri’s bicep, breathing so hard that it sends chills through Yuri’s veins. “You will hurt later if you take too much too quickly.”

Yuri wants to tell Otabek that he doesn’t care about later, but all he can do is whine while doing his best to keep fucking himself on the rod. Otabek moves in time with him, elusively pulling when Yuri pushes. The pace Otabek sets is good but slow, much too careful, _too caring_ , for Yuri’s liking. As he scratches against the bedposts his arms are tied to, he can’t help but feel like this would be easier to understand if Otabek would just _take_.

But Otabek doesn’t, now fucking Yuri with the golden dildo a little bit more quickly. It slides in and out of him easily enough, Yuri more than sufficiently wet, but at the first brush against his prostate, Yuri gasps and comes on the spot. His body flexes and he gives into the orgasm, gasping and whining and shoving himself against the rod all the while.

“Good,” Otabek says. Yuri can’t see his face when it’s still pressed against his arm, but he feels Otabek smiling. “Again.”

Otabek doesn’t stop fucking him through his orgasm, which is well enough, since Yuri is hard and begging for release moments later. He’s reached the point in his heat where he doesn’t get soft anymore, just gets harder and harder. It’s painful and he wants more than just the cool metal within him, but with Otabek pushing it against that spot that makes him scream and release over and over, Yuri can find it within himself to pardon Otabek, if only temporarily. 

Just as Otabek said, Yuri comes again soon, and Otabek hums agreeably. His breath is starting to get harder and quicker against Yuri’s arm, and Yuri, now temporarily lucid, remembers how hard Otabek was earlier.

“You,” he gasps, shaking his arm so that Otabek’s pushed off and forced to face him. “Don’t you want…?”

Otabek’s face, while pained with restraint, softens. “I’ll manage later.”

“Hnngh,” Yuri responds. He means to hum but he’s already so uncomfortably hard that he can’t do more than moan. His dick shoves against the wet spot on the mattress and he cries out. He feels so disgusting, so shameless.

The rod’s pace doesn’t move, but Otabek looks along the length of Yuri’s body and he makes a quiet click of his tongue. “I’ll wipe your fluids off of you and bring you a clean sheet to place under you after this.”

‘Why are you doing this?’ he wants to ask, but all he can do is take in the thick bulb of Otabek’s dildo. He gasps a final time and screams when Otabek presses against his prostate, well-timed in both relief and pleasure. His body clenches and curls with the warmth, not the heat, spreading to his body, making his skin sing with pleasure and his thighs spread for more. Yuri sighs sweetly and collapses onto the mattress bonelessly. That’s twice he’s come now -- with Otabek helping him, anyway -- and Yuri swallows thickly. Otabek’s getting him off quicker and quicker, but it’s beginning to feel like he needs more. “Not enough.”

Otabek raises a brow. He thrusts the rod faster but Yuri shakes his head, ashamed of what it is he’s about to ask for. He gasps, “Knot.”

Otabek runs his hand up the length of Yuri’s back, careful not to touch along his setting scars. “In time.”

Yuri hisses out a strangled cry at the denial, another orgasm overtaking him, and he blacks out.

-

Yuri wakes up in a haze. Surprisingly, his heat feels the same, not worse, and Yuri clenches his eyes shut, both grateful and annoyed that the vial Otabek gave him was indeed emergency suppressants. He breathes evenly, trying to think through the instincts of, ‘want,’ and ‘alpha,’ and, ‘knot.’ The urges are less needy than earlier, he finds, though the mattress is wetter than he remembers passing out in.

“Otabek,” he calls out, and only sees a lump move in a nearby bed, where the concubines sleep after coupling. Whether it’s because of the filth Yuri’s made of his bed or Otabek’s way of distancing himself, Yuri can’t begin to wonder. 

Yuri doesn’t try calling out again. His thighs are wiped dry, and he can feel at least three different fabrics beneath his hips, a small but not unbearable spot of wetness from where he’s leaked his slick or come in his sleep. His ass is sore from earlier but he can tell nothing besides the rod was in him. He feels comfortable, safe, and taken care of, as much as he hates to admit it. For the first time since he came to Otabek’s castle, he feels like he can rest easily, knowing that the friend he used to know is still there, in some small way. He feels heavy, his heat ebbing and sleep overtakes him.

-

Otabek isn’t in the room when Yuri wakes up again. He pushes up with some discomfort, noting that his wrists are sore but released, and all the sheets beneath him now are completely dry, unlike how he woke up earlier. Yuri breathes uncomfortably, inspecting the room slowly. It’s bare and mostly golden and sky blue, the colors of Otabek’s crest. Before he has a chance to muster the energy to stand up and see for himself what secrets the room holds, Otabek enters from a door to the west and approaches Yuri with a golden platter. He steadily makes his way to the bed and places the platter down, filled with fare even grander than what Yuri became accustomed to in the harem. “Eat.”

“What the hell was that last night?” Yuri asks, pushing away the platter with a hand. Otabek bristles but watches the food jiggle with the movement, threatening to spill over. “If you truly care anything about me, you owe me an answer! Stop playing this game of pretending not to know who I am when it’s obvious you do.”

Otabek sighs deeply but takes a seat beside Yuri, rearranging the platter on his lap and offering a plate of his Empire’s finest to Yuri. Yuri snatches the plate, exhausted from even a day of his heat, more intense than any he’s experienced before, but he refuses to let Otabek assume he’s forgiven him. Otabek seems to understand this much from posture alone, as tense and careful as ever. 

“Yuri… I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.” Otabek’s lips thin out and his eyes dart away. He places the platter away, at the foot of the bed. With a breath, he corrects himself, “as safe as I can.”

“As your whore?” Yuri scoffs. He doesn’t look away. No, he wants Otabek to look him in the eye as he says this. “I’d rather be dead.”

“You would be, if you weren’t hidden in my harem,” Otabek fires back. He leans away, eyes dark with promise and determination. “You’re lucky you crossed into the Empire’s territory by the time you were captured, but you won’t last ten minutes out there. As it is now, I could release you from my harem, were you to be discovered.”

“Then do it!” 

“I will not.”

“You bastard! Why!?” Yuri roars back, but it’s helpless, the walls of Otabek’s chambers solid and Otabek clearly unmoved to help him. Even when Yuri launches himself to grab Otabek’s collar, his gaze is firm and unrelenting. “Why won’t you help me? Answer me!”

“I need you alive,” Otabek responds simply. He falls limp in Yuri’s grasp and bares his neck. Yuri releases him from his hold, growling at the mockery of submission. Righting himself, Otabek lets out a quick sigh, and explains, “you can’t assume your throne if you’re dead.” 

The shock of hearing somebody else admit a possibility of regaining control of his kingdom catches Yuri off guard, but he manages a small voice. “My throne?”

Otabek lets out a frustrated breath and then, a bit softly, explains, “I had always hoped you were still alive, but it was hard to keep hope when my spies lost trace of you a year ago. For the past five years, your father has declared a bounty on your head. It’s a wonder my men didn’t recognize you.”

Yuri crosses his arms and looks away. He doesn’t want to believe that Otabek cares are much as the tone of his voice seems to imply. “That bounty is a small thing.” 

Otabek’s expression doesn’t change. His lips thin out and his eyes narrow. “A month ago, the bounty was raised tenfold the original reward. I suspect one of your men finally cracked. We’re still searching for him. When we find him, we’ll hold him captive and return him to you to decide his fate.”

Yuri wants to ask a million questions, and he wants to keep fighting Otabek. But he can’t resist news of his kingdom, and his shock tumbles out before he can help himself. “Wait, _ten?_ Why? I heard nothing of this!”

“Not even other kingdoms know of it yet. It’s a bid for allies,” Otabek explains calmly. “We intercepted a spy that was trying to spread word to a potential ally. But as for why, it’s simple: your father fears losing control of his kingdom so long as you continue to live.”

“He must be getting desperate,” Yuri mutters. 

“He is. I have been organizing an army that will invade and reclaim your kingdom. Leroy was the final piece. I’ve already secured all other neighboring nations. Your father is surrounded and he knows it; he has nowhere to go. Once we take him out, my allies will turn on me to bid for the throne and expand their power, but they can’t do that if your kingdom’s rightful heir still exists. Of course, they wouldn’t have agreed to my bargain if they knew it would be impossible to consolidate it into their rule. That’s why I have to keep you secret. And alive.” 

Yuri takes a deep breath, considering Otabek’s plan. He swallows, shaking his head, still unconvinced. “Why are you only telling me this now?”

Otabek’s grimace becomes deeper, and Yuri’s breath hitches. This is the Otabek he remembers from his youth. “The plan was always to tell you now. Had you drank the suppressants, you would have been brought to my chambers, heat-free, and we would have discussed it like we are now. There was no way for us to safely speak so long as you were in the harem, and I could not show you favorable attention or it would have roused suspicion.”

Yuri bites his bottom lip, unable to find words to deny it. It makes sense, thinking back on it, but that doesn’t erase everything he’s survived until now. “I still don’t understand why you’re doing this. All of this. Any of it.”

Otabek wraps his hands around Yuri’s and ever so gently raises them to his mouth and looks up to Yuri, kissing each knuckle one-by-one. His lips are warm and moist on Yuri’s skin, leaving the hair along his arm prickled. “Yurochka. I remember you, and I know who you are. I have…admired you all these years. I have worked hard to bring this empire out over poverty and ill repute, to make it worthy of your great kingdom. My nation is still young and I lack the authority of my father the Emperor, but you have my word that the Golden Empire will do everything in its power to see you and your kingdom returned to former glory. You would be safest bonded to me, but I cannot bond with you until you are restored to your kingdom.”

“Wh-What are you saying?” Yuri demands while snapping back his hand as though it’s on fire. His face feels hot and red, and he knows it isn’t from the heat.

“I have every intention of courting you,” Otabek explains. This time, he crawls forward toward Yuri as Yuri struggles to wiggle backwards, heart racing and eyes wide, trained on the blacks of Otabek’s eyes. “Yuri Plisetsky of the Ice Tiger Kingdom, I will make you into the Crown Jewel of the Golden Empire, for now and forever.“

“And if I say no?” Yuri challenges, but it only makes Otabek smirk.

Otabek stops crawling once his lips hovers only a breath away from Yuri’s. He lifts an arm and drags a single finger down the length of Yuri’s bare skin, from shoulder to wrist. “I will keep you untouched, desired by all yet owned by none. And when you are restored…then should you wish to reject me, I will accept it.”

Yuri swallows. “You’ve just proposed to court me.”

“So I have. Now what will it be?”

“There’s no telling how long until I’m freed from being one of your golden sluts,” Yuri continues, pushing Otabek’s face away with his heel. “I refuse to wait that long.”

Otabek’s smile only grows, even as he cups Yuri’s heel in his palm, brings it to his lips, and kisses Yuri’s ankle. When their eyes lock, his gaze is piercing. “Then we best hurry.”

**Author's Note:**

> [extra notes about this au](http://90stimkon.tumblr.com/post/162025624983/the-crown-jewel-of-the-golden-empire-timkons) that just didn't make it into the fic. feel free to hmu on [tumblr](https://90stimkon.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/cloneboys), or [consider commissioning me](https://90stimkon.tumblr.com/post/162750545663/commission-me)!


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